How We killed Ifedolapo Oladepo
Ife mi!! Ife mi!!! her mother called… There was no reply. The elderly woman moved closer, may be her daughter wasn’t hearing, one more call, her daughter still didn’t respond. She was still, cold as ice, Ifedolapo was dead. There was a moment of reminiscence; the struggles, midnight prayers, borrowed money, odd Jobs, belonging sales; so Ifedolapo could acquire tertiary education, become independent and more importantly a capital investment to this nation. How did we pay back Ifedolapo’s mother, we killed her daughter. The woman wailed uncontrollably, she questioned why death didn’t take her away instead of her daughter. No one had the courage to placate her, it was good to let her express anguish.
I fought my tears as I perused the internment pictures of Ifedolapo being committed to mother earth at her place of residence in Osogbo. It was a moment of despair, gloom and pain. The psychological and emotional torment of not ever going to see a loved one again. I felt the same when I lost my father to negligence by medical staffs of Army military Hospital, Jibowu. They refused to attend to a dyeing man on the account of him not being a present or ex service man. This situation might be different because a mother lost her daughter, it hurts more when the woman begins to see Ifedolapo’s friends become all she wished for her daughter. A successful career, wife and mother.
Ifedolapo had resumed the mandatory NYSC camp, she took ill the subsequent days predicating on environmental change I suppose. She couldn’t make the morning parade and it was credited to her as feigning illness. Just before eye brows were raised, her health had degenerated beyond what the camp’s clinic could handle and in a few ticking of the clock, she succumbed to death. What could be more disdain than this? Assuming a person is feigning ill health; even if, we have an obligation to take precautionary measures. This is the culminate of negligence, laxity and nonchalance peculiar to Nigerians. We have thousands killed every day by negligence of supposed medical professionals, or the increasing rate of police fatal shooting at innocent citizens. What do you say of drivers who sleep off the wheel and pedal beyond speed limits, allowing many die in the prime of their lives.
Where and how did we lose our shared humanity? What has taken the place of altruism and compassion? We must rethink it because, we are unsure of whose poignant story will make the headline next for being a victim of nonchalance. We are all guilty and should make amends. If you turn on the gas minutes before striking the match, if you assume you have water in your car radiator, if you make calls as the phone is plugged to power and you can manage your aches for days without first aid. Then there is a macroscopic numeracy of us, who take delight in media sharing of accident victims and scenes, without trying to help or call first aid. Let me state this, that we all have a hand in the untimely death of Ifedolapo.
Ifedolapo was a beautiful, charismatic and brilliant lady with great dreams. She had her masters degree in mind; a first class graduate of Transport Management who probably was going to be the solution to our numerous transportation challenges. She had the fantasies of her a graceful husband and lovely children. None of this would come to fulfillment. Ifedolapo’s mother will not receive her bride price, she won’t walk her to the altar. She will never get the chance at omugwo for Ifedolapo’s children, she won’t celebrate Ifedolapo’s first job and the customary prayers of her first salary. We deprived her of all these by killing Ifedolapo.
The way we assumed Ifedolapo was feigning illness, is the same way we assumed the Jonathan administration worked or the Buhari administration would work. It had become too late and everything now is slipping out of control. Until we realise the purpose of our existence is to live for another, this nation will not work and like aunty Toke Makinwa, we would live in servitude under the Egyptian Maje and see more Ifedolapo’s die in their prime.
Ifedolapo is dead, the Naira is dead, this economy has dwindled, aunty Toke is managing emotional recession and we are still assuming....... My question is why are we so negligent?
Tomorrow, members of Ifedolapo’s family will try her mobile line again and Ife won’t pick up.
Good Night Ifedolapo Oladepo.